Flame Red
by Rocket3000
Summary: Jack Frost has vanished! A new threat has emerged. Will the other Guardians be able to find Jack and protect the children of the world?
1. Prologue: Meeting at the Pole

_Wonder. Memories. Hope. Dreams. Fun._

_Childhood._

_It's what we Guardians protect. _

_Eight months ago, we defeated Pitch Black, at least for a while. Kids all over the world started believing in us again. Fear had been vanquished, for a while at least. Everything had returned to normal._

_Or so everybody thought. _

_Hi. My name's Jack Frost, and we're going to have some fun._

* * *

The toy factory was at full throttle. Flying machines of all shapes and sizes roamed the skies, some zipping around like hummingbirds, others majestic in their gentle, slow flights. Elves tottered about on spindly legs, some clinging on for dear life to another newly dreamt-up contraption as they whizzed wildly around on the wooden workshop floor. Yetis sat at various tables, each preoccupied with a different toy. The iconic globe rotated slowly on its axis, dotted by millions of tiny specks of golden light.

The seeming mundaneness of the factory was broken only by the presence of three special visitors in the factory.

"Why'd you call us here again, North? Some of us have… ahem… work to be doing." Tooth, wings a blur, her perpetual bubbly smile dazzling as ever, hovered in midair. Her ever-present entourage of tiny fairies flew in a protective circle around her, humming gently as they did. Her hands preened absentmindedly, plucking off stray feathers that floated slowly to the ground.

"Crikey, North, I just got my newest batch of white eggs! Those little buggers ain't gonna paint 'emselves, mate! Couldn't this have waited?" Bunnymund drawled, casually twirling one of his trademark wooden boomerangs as he dusted himself off, his left foot thumping out an idle beat. A lone flower bloomed in the wooden floor of the toy factory.

One member, though, had remained silent. His brows pinched together as if in deep thought, yellow streams of sand emerged from Sandy's hair and snaked through the air, taking shape above his head.

"Good, Sandy!" The big bearded man said in a thick Russian accent, and gave a roaring bellow of laughter, his beard and long hair shaking wildly as he did. "Straight to point." He jabbed a finger at the shape floating in midair. "That…" he paused, eyebrows furrowing, taking a stride forward, his jolly expression fading, "is answer to question."

The other two Guardians turned to stare at the dwarfish yellow man, who smiled back widely in return, his eyes crinkling into slits. Above him, a miniature version of Jack Frost, complete with staff, walked through the air, white hair unruly as ever. The likeness of the missing Guardian grinned mischievously.

_Awww... Even when he's yellow his teeth are white, _Tooth thought idly to herself. She blushed lightly in spite of her best efforts, hoping it would pass unnoticed.

"Look out the window. What do you see?" North strode briskly to the window, and turned to face the other three Guardians. Bunnymund hopped over, brows pinched together in his usual stern look.

"Tons of snow, North." Tooth, snapping out of her reverie, zipped over as well.

"Look _closer._" At North's insistence, the blue-furred rabbit and the brilliant-green avian girl squinted out at the vast, desolate white landscape. A movement caught their attention.

A huge block of ice collapsed from its position, crumbling off a cliff and diving into the ocean. The surrounding water geysered into the air and crashed back down, while the iceberg broke off into smaller icebergs and began drifting gently away.

"You see that?" They jumped, not realising North'd been standing beside them. He cut them off before they had a chance to reply.

"Everyday it happens. Huge chunks of ice crack, fall into ocean. My toy factory is getting closer to ocean."

"Umm... North, I still don't quite get it. Even if your factory goes down, it instantly relocates to a safe place, doesn't it?" Tooth's usually peppy voice was tinged with confusion, and a hint of worry.

"Christmas, is only two weeks away. If factory goes down, everything you see here will be destroyed." He gestured with broad, tattooed arms to the multitude of toys whizzing round the workshop, before turning back to face the other Guardians, his bushy grey eyebrows narrowed in a V.

"No time to rebuild all toys. Christmas will be _ruined_!" North's voice had escalated dramatically, to the point where he was almost shouting.

"Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, mate. I might not be the smartest egg in the basket, but Frosty could freeze up the whole North Pole for ya, mate!" Bunnymund retorted calmly, trying to defuse the situation.

North only chuckled mirthlessly.

"That would work, but... Jack Frost... is missing." North announced grimly.

* * *

**Reviews are always welcome!**

- Rocket3000


	2. Chapter 1: Belief Is A Fragile Thing

The house was dark, and silent. Mrs Bennett had gone to bed a long time ago, Sophie already in her room in a deep sleep, Abby curled up on the floor, lost in a doggy dreamland.

Outside, everything was basked in the glistening moonlight, and the world looked gentle, pale, ethereal, in hues of deep blue and black and sparkling white, under the influence of the full moon. The gentle light filtered into the room, dimly illuminating the figure of a small boy sitting upright in his bed with bent knees, pen in hand, scribbling away.

Jamie sucked on his pencil, squinting in the faint, white light, thinking of what else to write. He read it again, his own wobbly handwriting with some smudges (he'd broken the tip a few times) and holes in the paper. He gave a soft tug, and the pencil came out of his mouth with a soft "pop" sound.

_Dear Jack,_

_I know you're really busy making winter, but could you make it snow already? It'd be lots of fun! You could invite everybody – Tooth fairy, Santa, Sandman and maybe even the Easter Bunny! We could go sledding like last time, when I lost a tooth!_

He paused for a few seconds, tongue sticking out the corner of his mouth, lost in thought.

_I know he's been coming to see me a lot… And there's been a snow day every week since I met him… except last week. And this week. Maybe next week too._

_Two weeks isn't that long a time to wait, is it?_

The momentary silence was broken by the soft scratching sound of his pencil on paper.

_It's been really hot, and winter's coming soon… A snow day would be _great_, if it's not too much to ask. See you soon!_

He hastily scribbled his name and put it on his bedside table, intending to mail it tomorrow. His eyelids began to droop, and a soft yawn stretched through the still, silent air.

As his head hit the pillow, groggy and half-asleep, his last thought was, _Jack, where are you?_

* * *

Jamie groaned inwardly as he sat at his desk during last period, not really listening to Mrs. Smith as she droned on and scratched figures on the blackboard with chalk. A pencil and notebook sat on his table, the latter filled with numerous drawings of the Tooth Fairy, the Sandman, the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus and Jack Frost.

_Man, I'm tired._

Eyes half-shut, head resting in his left palm, he was shading in Jack's hoodie when-

"Bennett!"

"Y-yes, Mrs. Smith!" Eyes wide in panic, he tried frantically to flip to a half-filled page where he'd hastily scrawled some notes at the start of geography period.

Too late.

The notebook was forcibly snatched out of his hands as he looked on, impotent in his indignation. The tall, intimidating discipline mistress looked down sternly at him, through horn-rimmed glasses, her blonde hair pulled back tightly in a bun.

"Doodling in class, hmm, Bennett? Maybe you'd like to tell us why the polar ice caps have been melting?" The irritation in her sharp, shrill voice was evident.

"Uh… polar ice caps?" Jamie fumbled.

"Evidently you've not been listening since I stepped into the room! Can anybody _else_ answer my question?" She turned around to face the rest of the class. A hand shot up immediately.

"Global warming, Mrs Smith. Due to greenhouse gases…" But Jamie was no longer listening, his gaze unfocused, his mind somewhere else.

_But… Jack Frost wouldn't let the North Pole just melt like that… It's where Santa lives! And Jack's a good guy! I bet if I told him, he'd show everybody-_

He was jolted out of his trance as she turned around again, a viciously stern look plastered on her vulture-like features. Jamie gulped, eyes widening slightly, shivering imperceptibly in his seat.

"This doodling habit is becoming a problem, Bennett. It diverts your attention and disrupts your learning. It's childish, juvenile and I expect that it will not _ever_ happen again in my class."

_Hey! Jack Frost isn't childish! He's real! Just like the Tooth Fairy, Santa, the Easter Bunny and the Sandma-_

"I said, am I clear?"

He knew better than to risk any more.

"Yes, Mrs Smith." He tried to look remorseful. It didn't work.

"I think a detention is in order. 3 o'clock sharp, and don't you _dare _be late. Class, dismissed."

As if on cue, the school bell shrieked its usual siren call, and a stampede of kids flooded out into the hall outside.

Jamie's head found his desk with a soft _thump_, his mop of tangled brown hair sprawled on the hard wooden surface.

_Aww, man._

* * *

"Feeling tired?" A trace of sympathy stole into her voice, as she glanced over her shoulder at the small boy slumped on the table.

"Dinner's almost ready; go wash your hands and you can help me set the table. But try not to wake your sister; she's napping on the sofa."

"Alright mom." Jamie walked out of the kitchen. Several seconds later, the gurgling sound of running water seeped into the room, along with the squeaky, soapy sounds coming from the bathroom just next door.

Absentmindedly she reached for the remote, and flipped on the television. She couldn't very well actually look at it; the pot and its bubbling contents in front of her demanded almost all her attention.

"…and in other news, a heat wave has been hitting most of the eastern USA, including New York and Philadelphia. Temperatures have reached nearly 100 degrees Fahrenheit in some places, and it appears to be spreading south. Citizens along the west coast are advised to avoid direct sunlight, drink plenty of water and avoid strenuous exercise…"

_Oh dear. It might be coming toward Columbia next! _Her brow creased in worry. _I'll need to pack extra water for Jamie and Sophie tomorrow._

Her train of thought was broken by the _thump _of footsteps on the wooden floorboards, momentarily accompanied by the clink and rattle of metal forks, knives and spoons, and the lower, more resonant pitch of the ceramic crockery.

_Poor boy, spending the whole day in school like that, and detention too. He must be exhausted, _she thought, her hands on autopilot; chopping vegetables, stirring a pot ever so often, mixing ingredients, fine-tuning the electric stove. _Maybe I can cheer him up._

"Sweetie, why don't you tell me about the people you admire most?"

"Well… I think it'd have to be the Guardians."

"The… who? I'm sorry sweetie, you'll have to tell me a bit more than that." A motherly smile crept onto her face at the sight of Jamie's look of barely-contained excitement. He immediately started to chatter enthusiastically about his heroes as she lifted the pot and set it down on the table.

_He sure has a vivid imagination._

* * *

He had no idea where he'd gone wrong.

Okay, maybe a little bit of an idea.

It'd gone great at first; he'd told his mom all about the Guardians. The Tooth Fairy, the Sandman, Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny. Then he'd said those magic words. Jack Frost.

* * *

"_The others are all really cool, but I think the coolest of all is Jack Frost! First of all…" A radiant grin appeared on his face as he waxed lyrical about his favourite Guardian._

_Or tried to, anyway._

"_Hold on, dear. Did you say Jack Frost?" His mother suddenly interrupted._

"_Well, yeah-"_

_A sigh cut him off. His mother appeared to fumble with something under the table, sadness creasing her expression._

"_Might it have anything to do with… this?" She pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, covered in pencil marks. The words "Dear Jack" were just recognizable._

_Oops._

* * *

The cheery dinnertime atmosphere had quickly evaporated once his mom'd found out he'd stayed up late to write that letter. Of course, it probably didn't help that she'd found out how he'd got that huge bruise on his left cheek after going sledding, eight months ago.

He'd been sent to bed early, in spite of a reluctant groan and much begging.

But that didn't bother him as much as her parting comment…

* * *

"_Sweetie, you know I love you, and I know you love the… Guardians, but if this is turning into a problem…" She'd let that sentence hang for several seconds, her expression unreadable._

"_Maybe it's better that you try to live in the real world, instead of in your own head." Her tone said clearly – this conversation is _over.

* * *

He rolled over, to catch the full moon's light, as he let off some steam in his head.

_This is so unfair! Jack Frost is real! The Guardians are real! I bet if she wanted to believe in them, she'd see that they're real! __Why do grown-ups have to be so... grown-up!? __Urggh!_

Clinging to those thoughts like a drowning man clutching at straws, he fell into a fitful slumber, trying to ignore the many voices in his head that kept whispering, taunting.

"But what if you're wrong?"

**A/N: Sorry for the slight error. I accidentally misclicked when updating. :) **


	3. Chapter 2: Moonlight

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians; only this fic. **

* * *

"North, can't we talk somewhere more bloody quiet? I ain't hearin' half of what you're sayin'!"

Tooth blinked several times rapidly, in quick succession. Her mind throbbed with telepathic reports from her fleet of tooth fairies.

_Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to start doing field-work again… the "Instant Mental Messaging" was totally _not_ worth it._

___But seeing Jack every other day… totally was._

A sly grin crept over her face. Almost instantly, though, it'd died and faded. She grimaced, and forced a smile once more.

Amidst the _swish _of scrubbing brushes on the wooden floor, the light knocks of small hammers on wood, the indistinguishable shouts and shrieks coming from the testing area and the mental voices all squabbling for her attention, Bunny's grizzled voice was all but drowned out.

_Night-time over America. Two teeth in Chicago -four in New York-eight somewhere in Vegas- you know the protocol, girls- _

_ Stop it! Pay attention! Oh… my head hurts. _

"I said, I feel it." North replied grimly. His deep voice resonated clearly in an echoing bass tone, amidst the background clutter. Drawing himself to his full height of nine feet, he towered over everyone else in the room. A beard as coarse and tangled as the thick fur collar of his crimson winter jacket hid his lower chin. With a girth to match his height, and a grim expression sealed on his face as he stroked his long, white beard, he made an intimidating figure. Eyes flicking from side to side, apparently in deep thought, he added, "In my belly." As if on cue, his stomach gave an enormous rumble.

_Three in D.C- one in Manhattan- oooooh, twelve in Kansas countryside-_

_Girls, I'm off shift! Isn't there someone else you can report to? Oh wait, there isn't._

_Why is my head pounding so much…? _

Tooth's eyes refocused, blinking a few times, on the scene in front of her. She felt a wave of nausea approaching.

_Maybe I should take tomorrow off... _

"Ya sure about this, old-timer, or didya just try to cook last night's tucker?" Bunnymund retorted skeptically, leaning back against the whitewashed wall of the factory, hind paws crossed. His pale blue fur rippled slightly in the arctic breeze streaming in through the open window.

" 'Far as I know, Frosty's probably just off making a blizzard somewhere. Wouldn' be particularly outta character, either." Bunny continued in a placating tone, his eye-roll conveying his boredom as he toyed with his boomerang.

_Seven in L.A.- Another one in New York- no, two- no, five-_

_ Aaaaaaargh! I think I'm going to be sick…_

Tooth closed her eyes, resting her head in her hands, trying to fight off the oncoming nausea and throbbing migraine. Bunny and North's – _angry– _voices receded to murmurs, as did the mental voices of her fairy armada. Occasional, disconnected scraps came back to her…

"Bellu never wrong, bunny. _Never_."

"_Riiiiiiight. _Except when it is."

"Is that challenge? Eh?"

_Six in Toronto- Five somewhere in Alaska- _ Bunny's voice floated back into focus.

"Find him? Whaddaya mean, find him? More'n likely he'll pop up somewhere in Europe, or Asia, in a few days. I got eggs to paint, North! I'm not Mr. Irresponsible's babysitter!"

_Three-four-eight-one-two-ontwsakjafeoihskscsv_

The fairy voices blended into an indistinguishable buzz. Something snapped.

"ENOUGH!" Suddenly, the throbbing headache and nausea was gone. She hadn't even noticed her wings had stopped moving until she heard the all-too-familiar buzzing noise once more.

Tooth's eyes flew open in relief, but she was instantly jarred back by North and Bunny staring at her, mouths uncharacteristically open in shock.

_Oops._

She could almost feel her cheeks burning with their dazed looks, despite the cool arctic breeze spilling into the room. Desperately, she cast about for something-_anything- _

"Uhhh…. What I meant to say was… Oh look! Sandy's got something to say!" Tooth blurted, forcing a dazzling grin onto her face to hide the queasiness she felt.

All heads turned to the dwarfish, yellow man, who barely reached North's knee. His flowing suit seemed to ripple as he vigorously nodded his thanks to Tooth, an eye-crinkling smile replacing his previous exasperated expression.

"Ya know, ya could've just said so." Bunny muttered beside her, evidently annoyed at having been caught off-guard.

She heaved a mental sigh of relief. That_ was a close one. Phew. _

But at the back of her mind, she felt a small but persistent niggling sensation… _Why'd I get so… so sick? I usually multitask a lot more than that. Especially when it's night-time over Asia. Ugh. That place is really too overpopulated. _She shivered inwardly.

The glitter of dreamsand brought her back to the real world. A small, yellow crescent hovered above Sandy's head as North let out another rumbling guffaw.

"Ah, I see. Man in Moon has important message!"

* * *

_I can't _believe_ Mom made me do this. Stupid papers._

Jamie rested his head on his palm for the umpteenth time as he sat on his bed, his back resting against a propped-up pillow, not really absorbing the tiny printed words that filled up the entire page. He stifled a bored yawn with his free hand as he squinted once again at the cover page of the newspaper in a half-hearted attempt to focus.

* * *

It'd started with that letter she'd found in his room, addressed to "Jack Frost"… Initially, she'd been puzzled – until she remembered where he'd heard it. Her suspicion had only been confirmed when he mentioned "Jack Frost" that day at dinner.

She'd sat down and had a good, long talk with him about not letting his imagination run wild. She'd tried to maintain that a vivid imagination was normal, that it wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but he had to be able to tell between his imagination and reality. Still, Jamie hadn't appeared to grasp half of what was said. She'd finally tried to spell it out clearly for him – he lived in the real world, not in his head, and ended their talk on that note.

It hadn't been too comfortable for either of them, but it'd been necessary. Or so she'd thought.

From there, she'd _hoped _that the problem would solve itself, reluctant to interfere too much in what she considered childhood innocence. But Jamie's – _obsession_ – with certain fairy tale characters only worsened. Drawings of a white-haired boy in a blue hoodie and brown pants who she assumed was Jack Frost, frequent questions of "Mom, when's Jack bringing the Christmas snow?", and finally culminating in that horrid complaint from Mrs Smith, his geography teacher, about Jamie's incessant doodling in her lessons.

And then she was stuck in a veritable dilemma. On one hand she couldn't very well do _nothing, _but on the other she was reluctant to outright tell him to stop living in a fantasy world. It would break his spirit.

She'd finally had a thought – a stroke of inspiration, she would privately call it later, with many a suppressed smile when nobody was looking. All that remained, was to put her plan into action.

* * *

"But Mooooooom, why do I have to do it?" Jamie whined pleadingly, his eyes brimming with reluctance as he followed her into the living room.

"I've already told you, sweetie. I just think you're old enough to start keeping up with current affairs. Just think how many of your friends and teachers you'll be able to impress!" Mrs. Bennett answered, gently setting herself down on the plush sofa, emphasizing the last phrase with a smile, while she sighed inwardly. _This isn't working. _

"But Moooooooom... I don't wanna…" Jamie collapsed face-first onto the sofa, his mop of brown hair hiding the rest of his head. His legs dangled down at an angle.

_He's going to need some convincing. _

"Besides that, you can find out a lot about the world! There are all sorts of things people write about, and I'm sure you'll find something you like if you try it. Like…" she hesitated, floundering around for an age-appropriate topic, "missing persons, for instance."

Jamie's ears pricked up, and he turned to face her as he scrambled up to sit properly on one end of the sofa.

_I have him now, _she thought with an inward sigh of relief. This wasn't going to be so difficult after all.

* * *

_There's nothing about Jack Frost being missing! And I've read it twice through to double-check! Sheesh, I thought _somebody _would have written something about it by now! Doesn't anybody else notice there's no snow?_

Frustrated, he folded it and tossed it onto his bedroom floor.

By the time he'd fallen asleep, the moon had emerged from behind the clouds to shine directly into his room.

**Edit: Thanks to Griffinrose, DarkmoonBlaze, Teddybear98 and Shadowdancer21 for pointing out the duplication error :) **


	4. Chapter 3: A New Foe

**Disclaimer: I do not own Rise of the Guardians; only this fic.**

* * *

Tooth zipped through the skies, wings aflurry, an iridescent green streak that stirred the leaves on nearby trees, leaving gusts of wind in her wake. She didn't feel the bite of the wind that seemed to jab at her like a thousand needles; she didn't register the familiar façade of the Tooth Palace, her body moving more out of habit than conscious effort as her wings folded and she dived in towards the entrance; she didn't hear the background babble of the tooth fairies, squeaking and chirping in shrill voices to welcome her home, all of them scurrying about with teeth clutched tightly to put them in the proper containers. So absorbed in thought she was that she nearly collided with an ornately decorated pillar, and a few fairies had to hastily scatter to avoid crashing into her.

The palace itself was thousands of years old, and even she couldn't remember exactly how old it was. Memories like that tended to become lost in the general hustle and bustle of daily life. Located in a remote part of Asia, the Tooth Palace was built in the clouds, hidden from mortal eyes, and it was the pride of Tooth that it had stood untouched for millennia (until a certain Pitch Black had almost destroyed it, of course.)

Elaborate pillars hung suspended in midair, bridges criss-crossing the vertical columns to form makeshift walkways. Flat ledges jutted out at irregular intervals, where she could rest her wings. Where she could have rested her wings if she wasn't in a hurry, speeding off towards the Asian tower, to the library of memories within.

The libraries grew with time to accommodate more teeth; the outside was the most frequented, where the most recent teeth were stored. Here, mini fairies zipped through the air in swarms, the air permeated with the murmur of downy wings and the shrill squeaks that they used to communicate. Past the most recent month or so, the number of fairies rapidly dwindled; only the odd fairy retrieving memories from the library still weaved between the pillars.

Only when she had flown into the oldest parts of the library which dated back in excess of a century, the people whose teeth had been kept here long since dead or close to dying, did she release her white-knuckled grip on the thick, folded bundle of paper in her hands, tattered at the edges from the long trip from Jamie's house.

Here, the teeth were slowly disintegrating; the memories of the buried no longer bound to the world, the golden boxes gradually disappearing as the memories died with their owners. Only a few golden boxes lay about here; belonging to the oldest people in the world, containing dim memories of a childhood buried far beneath the surface of conscious memory.

Distantly, Tooth registered a dull ache, a seeping fatigue in her back and wings, from having flown so far, so fast, without rest. She felt a small pang of guilt at having snuck into his house, not to take a tooth, but that trove of information the Man in the Moon had marked out in one of his very rare moonlit messages.

Another thing had been clear. The Man in the Moon couldn't see everything, but there'd been hints of a new threat; a new adversary. Whatever - or _whoever _- it was, it was most likely linked to Jack's disappearance.

Now, an uncharacteristic grimace replaced her normal cheery smile, her usually-uplifted eyebrows furrowed in a rare look of determination. _Lucky I know how to read. More than I can say for Bunny and North, _she thought to herself wryly.

Setting herself down on one of the platforms jutting out from the many pillars in the palace, she began combing through each page, spurred on by the knowledge that the key to finding Jack lay in these musty pages.

* * *

The harsh, unforgiving sun scorched the barren, dry wasteland, the sand seeming to gleam golden in the intense light. Small, weedy desert plants stood forlornly alone, pimpled throughout the vast expanse of sand that the arid wind rolled like the ocean.

The few, scattered natives had long since disappeared into their thick tents to escape the blistering heat, the faded earth tones of the thick cloth seeming to disappear in the blinding glare as the sun slowly ascended towards its zenith. Here, the landscape never changed much; sand stretched in all directions as far as the eye could see.

Fariz sat at the wheel of the battered pickup truck, eyes masked by dark sunglasses to deflect the harsh, piercing sunlight. Thick white cloth bound around his head, obscuring most of his face, provided a semblance of protection from the desert winds that blew sand into the interior of the truck, through the long-since shattered windshield and windows he had yet to replace. Maybe when he had some actual money or glass panes to do it himself.

Eyes squinted almost shut, he drove down the dusty road, worn by wind and sand over the years. The road had been around since he could remember, his father having brought him down here countless times when he was just a boy. According to his father Farikh, the family had been in the trade for three generations when Fariz was born – starting when his great-grandfather had bought the truck, which had been relatively modern then.

It had not been very difficult to learn, he remembered, not the way his father had taught him. Collect the oil barrels, transport them to locations specified by the person at the collection point, where a contact would arrive to pick up the goods, with payment, and then quickly leave with the next day's collection point. And again, the next day. And again, the day after that. The place of collection changed daily; and he never knew who would meet him when he arrived at the dropoff spot, or who the oil ended up going to. He didn't even know whether he was the only one in the trade – it was quite likely, seeing as his was the only truck in town – but one never knew about anything. Secrecy was of importance; that much was obvious. Why so, however, was not. Questions were a waste of time; survival was paramount, and asking questions got one killed more often than not.

What he did know was that the payment was usually some dried meat, or some tins of vegetables, with the occasional bit of curry spices – worth a virtual fortune in the black market, ever since the rebels had taken over his town in the name of liberation and legal trade had slowed to a trickle. It wasn't much, but it was enough for him, his wife and two children to get by on in good times, if they were lucky.

He'd begun plying these roads more and more often in recent times; he'd come here four times in the past week. Today's was the biggest delivery yet; the back of his pickup was almost fully stocked. Why here, deep in the desert, and who bought so many barrels of oil, wasn't his concern. Asking questions was dangerous; much better to continue life as it was and do as he was told. His only concern was getting paid.

Arriving at the rock formation, he backed slowly into the spacious cavern that gaped across one side, careful to keep one foot on the accelerator and the key in the ignition. It would not have been the first time he'd been nearly hijacked and killed. He hastily removed his sunglasses, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the dimness of the cave.

Now all that was left was to wait for the contact to arrive. He waited tensely, trying to ignore the mild headache that seemed to be coming on.

* * *

Humans were so easy to manipulate. The young man that had delivered his final batch of oil had just proved it again for him, as so many other weak humans had. It had been almost enjoyable watching him overcome by the rage this time, screaming unintelligibly and convulsing on the ground, fury burning in his eyes, burning him out like a candle consumed by an inferno, until he finally settled, body limp, an oddly blank, lifeless look in his eyes. He wondered vaguely if the man's wife and children would grieve for him. It would have almost been funny if they had; mourning such a pitiful, meaningless existence.

Humans; so predictable, so simple-minded, yet so interesting. And so useful. Without a doubt, useful. He'd lost count of the wars he'd started for fun. It'd been so easy, too. He'd only had to give both sides a little prod here and a push there; everything else fell into place as if by magic – the malignant, blessed magic of human anger.

Anger to him was like ecstasy; he wanted it, craved it, needed the intoxicating feel of strength rushing through him. Wars were the best by far; so much hate, so much rage, so much _power_! The resonance of hatred burned so strongly, soaking the land in addictive waves. He could still feel the oily remnants of fury from the countless wars that had been fought, the innumerable families torn apart and the thousands of people killed, adding to the sweet stain that tainted the land like delightfully viscous, flowing ooze. All that was needed was a single, tiny spark – the whole place would go up in flames, like the oil so abundant in the Middle East.

It didn't matter why those foolish humans thought they fought, either. Fighting for water? Pfft. Fighting for survival? Ha! Fighting for freedom? Pah! They fought because he wanted them to, because he awakened their inner desire to _fight_. They convinced _themselves _of the rest. Humans could be so vain, each thinking themselves to be right and the others wrong, condemning each other in their "righteous fury"! In reality, they were all fools, who were too foolish to realise it. They were nothing more than animals, primitive and simple, intelligent on the surface but primal to the core, fueled by rage more than anything else.

He halted himself in his train of thought, the scorn and disgust replaced by a mocking, cruel laughter. After all, he had them to thank for helping him so much. It was thanks to them that he had been able to plant the seeds of discord in the region, and watched them grow slowly in this fertile land, sending down roots and putting out shoots, the mutual dislike and suspicion maturing into full-fledged hate. He'd tended his garden carefully, pruning off the diseased branches that threatened the growth of the rest. Humans who advocated diplomacy instead of war; attempts to reconcile by warring countries – all had been methodically snipped off by him. He let a few faulty branches grow, mostly because it amused him to see the pathetic effort put up before he invariably snapped them off, discarded them like the trash they were.

And oh! How useful this vile, delicious growth had been! But as much as humans hated each other… there was one even greater source of frustration than all the rest combined, that had been growing nigh on three hundred years before going into hibernation for the past eight months. It was not outright anger, but he felt the beginnings of it embedded deeply within. He could sense its massiveness, the sheer potential it emanated. The potential he would realise.

Even better… it would last forever, unlike the short span of human life and the fickleness of human fury that limited their usefulness. He would turn this into an even greater source of power he could draw on, augmenting his strength far beyond what had once been his wildest dreams. He would be practically _invincible. _

Best of all… it would be the lure in his master plan to trap and eliminate the Guardians. Permanently.


End file.
